


Stop It

by wuwu



Series: Tumblr AUs [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3873811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wuwu/pseuds/wuwu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I work at a department store and if you take out and unfold a shirt and then leave it one more time I’m going to stuff it down your throat” AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop It

Fold in the sleeves. Fold the edges to the middle. Fold in half. Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

_Repeat._

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Michael asks, voice nearing a yell as he points to a man standing next to a shelf stocked with, what used to be, folded shirts. “There he goes again!”

“Calm down, dude,” Ray rolls his eyes. He slouches over the counter, chin resting in his hand as his eyes scan the store, finding the man with wispy, sandy hair. “I’ll go back and fold them for you.”

“That’s not the point.” Michael’s eyes narrow as he watches the customer pick up yet another shirt and unfold it, looking around warily before placing the unfolded garment back on the shelf. “It’s the principle of the thing. If he knows he can’t fold the fucking shirts then he needs to leave them be.”

“Fuckin’ tell him to stop, then,” Ray shrugs. “Meet him in the pit. Throw it down. Lose your job. Live in a box.”

“I’m not gonna fight him,” Michael sighs. “I’m just gonna… give him something to think about.” He walks away from behind the counter, shooting Ray a quick thumbs up as he weaves his way through rows and rows of shirt racks and shelves. He passes by manikin after manikin, keeping his eyes on the bird’s nest that’s supposed to be some guy’s hair as he strolls through the department store.

He keeps his gaze on the man, admiring his tan skin and confident movements. His lanky build and small grin would’ve been extremely appealing to Michael under different circumstances, but as he watches the customer look at shirt after shirt, he is painfully reminded of the crimes committed and the thought of even liking him rushes out of his head.

“You know,” Michael speaks up, startling the man as he looks at yet _another_ shelf of clothes and honestly is he even shopping anymore? “It took me two hours to fold every single goddamn shirt you just wrinkled up and if you unfold another shirt I’m gonna shove it down your throat.”

Michael only glares as he sees the man’s mouth press into an uneasy line, giving a quick and shaky nod. His eyes are a bright green with little specks of hazel and Michael does everything in his right mind to not let his knees buckle because he is a man on a mission and he’ll be damned if he falls for the enemy.

He gives a curt nod and makes his way over to Ray, rolling his eyes as he leans on the counter next to his friend and allows his eyes to scan over the people pushing their carts and swinging their baskets.

“So you think you got it through his head?” Ray asks.

“If I didn’t then that guy must have a pretty thick skull,” Michael huffs.

“Ooh, I’m sure he has a thick skin, too,” Ray says. “Because right now he’s in the process of wrecking those shirts. And ooh, does he dare do it?” Ray gives a cheeky grin as he watches Michael’s gaze shift back over to the man with an increasing scowl on his face. “Ladies, gents, and distinguished guests, you’ve seen it firsthand! Now the pants are coming into play and Michael Jones is not happy about it.”

“I’m getting so fucking fired,” Michael practically yells. With a shake of his head he storms off to the corner of the store where the man is mussing up the clothes to look like the sad (adorable) excuse for a hairstyle he has.

“There you are!” he calls out.

“Okay, pardon my language, but what the _fuck_ are you doing?” Michael spits out. “What part of shoving shirts down your throat did you not understand?”

“Well, y’know,” he shrugs, a sheepish smile making its way onto his face.

“Look…”

“Gavin.”

“Look, Gavin, unless you’re some fucking champ at folding clothes and are practicing for some sort of speedrun, there’s literally no reason for you to have fucked up all those shirts and pants,” Michael says. “Because I’m not getting unpaid overtime to fix this shit.”

“Ah, well,” Gavin utters. His hand moves to hold onto his arm and Michael can see his thumb run circles into tanned skin and holy shit abort mission because the enemy is cute. “At first I was looking for some clothes and I’d wanted to look at the designs and whatnot, but I didn’t know how to fold them so I just left them there. And then you yelled at me and I was gonna stop, I really was, but you’re really attractive and this was a sort of… experiment to see if you came back so I could ask you for your number.”

Michael bites the inside of his cheeks, frown struggling to remain on his face as he stares at the newly discovered Brit before him because holy fuck his plan was not to fall for the enemy and look at him now. All that experience down the drain. He can see Gavin’s eyes begin to dart around the store, feet shifting uneasily as his grin falters more and more the longer it takes for an answer to leave Michael’s mouth.

“Sorry if you don’t swing that way,” Gavin blurts out. “Just for--”

“I’ll give you my number,” Michael interrupts, finally gaining the ability to speak once more.

“Top!” Gavin laughs. He begins to pat himself down for a pen but stops when he sees Michael cross his arms and his mouth open.

“I’ll give you my number, _but_ you have to fold every fucking shirt and pair of pants you unfolded,” Michael says.

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> I lost track of how many times I've said (un)fold tbh


End file.
